The Logic Child
by Writer24601
Summary: After John's marriage, John and Sherlock are starting to drift apart. But what happens when John asks Sherlock to babysit. What happens when Sherlock teaches John's child to make deductions? Just a story I made up, it's my first story so please review. Not Johnlock, but hopefully you'll like it anyways!
1. Chapter 1

"While then, I guess this is it."

Sherlock peered over the edge of several flasks containing lethal-looking chemicals.

"No more fake suicides, of crazy gunmen or running for my life."

Today was the day that Sherlock had been secretly dreading for a long while. Sherlock's best friend and constant companion, John Watson was leaving the flat that the two of them had shared for a few years and going to live with his new wife, Mary Morstan. The wedding had been tedious, and so had been packing all of John's boxes. Why anyone would ever want to get married, Sherlock had no idea. Marriage was an ordinary people thing.

"I'll be lost without my blogger" Sherlock said, cracking a smile. John smiled a little in return.

"I'll make sure to come visit you from time to time" John promised.

"Please do, you know how dreadfully boring it gets around here."

After a few seconds silence, John looked at his watch. "Got to go, it's nearly quarter to four. Goodbye."

"Goodbye John."

John turned and left the room. Sherlock waited a few seconds, then stood up and slowly walked to the window. He saw John climb into a cab, hand in hand with his new wife. Sherlock saw the cab drive off, and watched the back window. John didn't even look back.

Sherlock felt a sudden pang of a strange emotion. It took him a moment to place it. Loneliness? No, that couldn't be. Sherlock Holmes didn't have emotions, they were unnecessary, like friends. Just a weakness. He walked back over to the table and sat down, focusing on the experiment. Behind a strange soft-pink liquid lay a pair of blue-green eyes, blinking back tears.

"Mary, are you bloody kidding me?"

"I think it's a brilliant idea. You haven't seen Sherlock in ages. It will be nice to let our children get to know him."

"Letting him 'get to know' our kids is fine, but do we trust him enough with our kids to leave him alone with them! He'll probably use them for one of his bloody experiments or something! Mary, trust me!" John bellowed.

"John, relax. Let the kids get to know their uncle Sherlock. Everything will be fine. The babysitter is busy tonight, and it won't kill Sherlock to babysit once." said Mary, leaning casually on the kitchen counter.

"Please, listen! You don't know him!"

"John..."

"Okay, I'll stop by the lab and ask him to babysit." said John defeatedly, knowing he had lost before he had started.

"Thanks."

"No problem, but you might want to find a back-up babysitter, just in case."

John and Sherlock had been slowly drifting apart over the past few years. John would occasionally help him out with cases, but most of the time he was too busy looking after his children, the twins Hamish and Anabiel. The posts on his blog dwindled from fewer to fewer. Every once in a while John would stop by and visit Sherlock, but he seemed more reserved and focused on his experiments. John was pleased to finally be able to settle down and live a proper life which was an experience that he hadn't had, but sometimes he missed being surrounded by suspense and danger. Oh well.

John knew that Mary wanted their family to stay close to Sherlock, and for Sherlock and John to remain friends, but some things just couldn't be helped. He felt as though Sherlock was reverting to his old antisocial ways. Mycroft probably wasn't pleased.

He chuckled to himself. he couldn't wait to see Sherlock's face when John asked him to babysit.

The door to the lab swung open. John looked inside. Sherlock was behind the microscope, just as John had guessed that he would be. Apparently, he couldn't be bothered to look up, probably in the middle of one of his bloody experiments. Typical.

"Molly, please put the books over there on the counter." said Sherlock, who seemed to be oblivious to the identity of the person in the doorway.

"Sherlock, this is John."

"Oh" said the man with mild interest. He looked up over the microscope. "Hello. By the way, I'm not babysitting for you. I've got enough problems without two children." He pronounced the word 'children' as though children were a scourge upon humanity.

John chuckled inwardly. He had forgotten how Sherlock constantly took him by surprise. He considered asking how Sherlock had figured it out, but decided not to knowing that it would probably annoy him. Actually, this whole visit was probably irritating him a good deal. But he had to try. For Mary.

John opened his backpack and removed a large bag full of rare chemicals, cigarettes, and assorted illegal drugs that Sherlock used occasionally.

"Is this the same John Watson I knew?" Sherlock asked. "Thank you" he said, reaching for the bag, surprised at such a thoughtful gift. John pulled the bag back out of his reach.

"It's yours once I find my children safe and sound."

"Okay." Sherlock sighed inwardly. Those chemicals were expensive.  
"I mean it."

"No experiments!"

"Okay."

"Perfectly healthy!"

"I'm not going to murder my best friends children!"

"Okay, my house, seven o'clock?"

"Sounds good." said Sherlock, eyeing the bag hopefully.

"Okay, see you then." said John as he walked away, praying inwardly that Sherlock would kept his word.

"See you."

Sherlock walked back over to his microscope and sat down. "Still the same John Watson I knew" he muttered to himself, thinking of how John had yelled at him. He grinned a little, then his smile faded as he thought of the task he had undertaken. This was going to be horrible.

Sherlock arrived at John's house a few minutes after seven o'clock. Recently refurbished, last owner was an elderly woman. She had left to go to an elderly home after her husband had passed away from lung cancer. Other deductions of this sort popped out from every nook or cranny imaginable. Sherlock smiled. Deductions had taken his mind away from horrible things like babysitting. Then his mind returned to the task on hand.

Sherlock hesitated before ringing the doorbell. Then it struck him that he was nervous. Why was he nervous? That was stupid. The slender, pale finger pressed firmly onto the doorbell.

The door opened almost immediately. John's wife quickly ushered him inside out of the slightly cool evening air.

"Oh goodness Sherlock, we haven't seen you in so long. how are you doing? How has everything been?"

"Quite fine, thank you." Sherlock forced a half-hearted smile.

"Oh that's wonderful. Feel free to put your coat over there. There's some chicken noodle soup on the stove, it's still warm. Feel free to take some for yourself too, it's my mothers recipe. I have some biscuits on the stove for after dinner. Hamish likes his with a glass of milk. Bedtime is at eight o'clock. Feel free to read or watch television after then. I have some childrens books on that shelf over there, they put Anabiel right to sleep. Hamish's stuffed animal is right on top, do you see? Okay, that should be it. We'll be home in a few hours, text John with any questions. See you soon. Oh John, your friend is here!"

John walked into the room, Sherlock sneaked a look. Some of the furrows on his face had faded, and there was a glint in his eyes. He looked...happy. That was strange, Sherlock would have been distinctly unhappy in his situation. But then, John and Sherlock were very different.

The two men stood a little ways apart. The air between them was tense. John looked for a moment as though he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Finally, he cleared his throat,

"Well then, good luck. See you later."

"See you."  
John offered his hand to his wife. She took it and they began to exit the flat. On their way out, John planted a light kiss on Mary's cheek. The door swung closed, and shut with a grave crash.

A little girl stood behind Sherlock in a doorway. She had been standing there for a while. Her head was a nest of soft blond curls, and her eyes flitted around the room, taking in every detail. Behind her eyes, her young brain was desperately trying to connect everything, delicately extracting logic from conclusion with a precision similar to Sherlock with his experiments. Every drop landed in the correct petri dish. Every once in a while, the microscope would zoom in and details would be observed. And these small details made up a larger picture, which the girl was then free to observe at her leisure. This girl was Anabiel, and she had a very special gift. She had the gift of logic.

Sherlock was laying on the couch, stretched out like a cat. He was focusing intently on a small crack in the ceiling. I could have solved three cases by now. A miniature version of John ran up to him, toy car in hand. This was Hamish.

"Why are you laying down? It isn't bedtime yet." he inquired, his youthful eyes full of innocence.

"Bored" muttered Sherlock distractedly.

"Why are you bored?" The boy laughed in his carefree voice. "Do you want to play cars with us?"

" The other child, Anabiel, came up to Hamish and tried to lead him away.

"He solves mysteries for a living. We're not mysteries, so we're boring."

Sherlock moved his head to look at the girl. "Did your Dad tell you that?"

"No."

"Then how did you know that?"

"I figured it out."

Sherlock sat up and turned to face Anabiel. Tonight might not be so boring after all.

Anabiel and Sherlock spent the next half-hour at the window, deducing things about passerbys. Sherlock taught Anabiel some of the tricks and shortcuts to deduction, and how to deduce things more quickly. Hamish seemed content that Sherlock wasn't bored anymore, and proceeded to race his cars across the room. Then, dinner was eaten.

"You like to do experiments, right?" asked Anabiel.

"Yes, I like experiments." Sherlock replied.

"Can you do an experiment with us?" she asked.

"No" said Sherlock quickly. He wanted to keep his word to John, and he was afraid that he would accidentally injure the children. That couldn't happen.

"Please?" asked Hamish excitedly, standing up on the chair.

Sherlock's mind wandered back to an experiment that he and Mycroft used do when they were young. He smiled a little, remembering the fun they used to have.

"Okay, I'll help you do an experiment."

"YAYYYY!" The twins toppled off their chairs and scurried to the kitchen. Sherlock stood up slowly and followed them.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Sherlock removed a glass cup from a shelf. He then removed a bottle of vinegar and some baking soda. The children observed intently with wide eyes.

"Watch closely."

Sherlock proceeded to unscrew the cap from the vinegar and fill the glass halfway. Then he scooped out some baking soda with a spoon and dumped it in as well. All was silent for a second, then a frothy mixture bubbled out of the cup and overflowed onto the table! The twins gave a shriek of laughter and tumbled backwards. They began cheering.

"Do it again! Do it again!"

Sherlock smiled and began to refill the glass...


	2. Chapter 2

Finally, it was time for bed. Sherlock sent the children off to their beds and, remembering what Mary told him, remembered Hamish's stupid stuffed animal.

"Sherlock, can you read us Peter Rabbit?" Hamish asked.

"Nonono please Sherlock don't read that it's boring and I already know how it ends."

Sherlock felt relieved. He hadn't wanted to read some stupid kids story. It would be an ordeal for him, and it would probably rot the childrens' brains. Anderson probably read lots of kid stories.

Sherlock's glance flitted over to a stray chemistry book laying in the corner. Now that was interesting. Anderson probably couldn't even read it now. He picked it up and began reading aloud. Within a matter of seconds, Hamish's had fallen asleep. Anabiel remained wide awake for several minutes, obviously captivated by this new story. Finally, her eyelids began to droop. Then, her breathing turned rhythmic and her little head dropped to one side. Sherlock tucked her into her covers, then wondered why he had done that. She could sleep perfectly fine while sitting up. He contemplated this for a moment, then walked back into the living room where he once again lay down on the couch. He then continued reading the chemistry textbook, just like he would at home.

John and Mary returned about an hour after the childrens' bedtime. Mary seemed happy and carefree, but John was obviously still concerned for his childrens' wellbeing. Immediately upon entry, he walked over to the childrens' room to check on them. They seemed to be perfectly fine, thank the lord. He then strode back into the kitchen, apparently very relieved. Mary went upstairs to her bedroom leaving John with Sherlock. The second Mary was out of sight, John pulled the bag of drugs/chemicals from behind the toaster and tossed it to Sherlock. Sherlock caught it, surprised. He had forgotten about his payment.

"Thanks for looking after my kids."

"No problem" said Sherlock sincerely. "They were great, for children."

John narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Sherlock seemed way too affectionate. It was out of character.

"Did you know that Anabiel can deduce things like I can?"

John jumped backwards and ran into the counter. Apparently he was unaware. Sherlock felt strangely pleased for a moment. Anabiel had told him, but not her father. He felt...accepted.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Sherlock grinned a little at his friend's disbelief.

"She realized that I was a detective from first glance. You didn't tell her, did you?"

"Afraid not."

"Anyhow, your children were not boring. This went better than I expected. Could I come again sometime?"

John seemed bewildered at his friends request. Then he grinned.

"Of course you can come anytime, you're my friend!"

Sherlock felt a warm feeling welling up inside him. He had been accepted by this little family. He hadn't repelled them with his unusual habits. Maybe he wasn't such a sociopath.

John and Sherlock spent a while talking in the kitchen about past adventures. Both of them were pleased to not be rejected by the other. Their friendship remained intact.

Sherlock spent the car ride home pondering Anabiel. What should he do with her. Would it be kind to help her develop her abilities? He knew from experience that somewhat smart people had a tendency to be rejected by society. Could he let that happen to her, or should he try to help her become normal. She would be less interesting, but she would have a chance at having friends, a boyfriend, people that liked her. She would be happy.

If he helped her develop her abilities she would have a better chance at a job, and have the added benefit of not being an idiot. But would she be happy? Was he happy?

Sherlock contemplated this for a while, before he came to the consensus that he should help her learn to deduce, and protect her from the evils of society. Hopefully he could do that. Anyhow, there weren't so many logical people in the world. They had to stick together and protect each other. This was his final decision.

John was completely unsure what to think. His daughter, like Sherlock. All of the bits and pieces were not fitting together in his mind. Should he let her become like Sherlock? Would society accept her. Would she be happy?

He thought this over for a while before deciding to let her be herself. Only then would she be happy. And he must take care not to let society beat her down. Now on to the important question.

Why had she told Sherlock of her ability and not him? He was her father. Did she feel like she couldn't trust him? Yet how could she trust this stranger to her? Maybe she told him because he was like she was. Somehow, John found that both comforting and unnerving. It was comforting that Sherlock was not rejected in his house, and Anabiel could safely trust him. It was unnerving because she had not told her own father. Or was he just too blind to see it?

Finally, John decided to just go to sleep. As long as he did what was best for Anabiel, all would be fine.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, was Uncle Sherlock nice to you?" Mary asked her children at breakfast the next morning. The response was immediate.

"YESSS!"

"We did science!"

"He made things explode!"  
"He taught me how to figure things out about people by looking at them!"

"He was nice!"

"He didn't read boring books!"

John and Mary laughed and relaxed. All was well. All of their worries about leaving their children with a sociopath were forgotten.

John actually suspected that Sherlock was not a sociopath. After doing a brief bit of research, he decided that Sherlock showed more symptoms of Aspergers or high-functioning autism. He hadn't mentioned this to Sherlock, but somehow the idea comforted him. 'Sociopath' was a slightly threatening word, and it didn't fit with the description of the man who had jumped off a roof to save him.

"Do you guys want to visit Uncle Sherlock again sometime?"

"YESSSSS!" the twins yelled enthusiastically.

And so Sherlock became the official Watson-family babysitter. Everyone was happy with the arrangement(whether they openly expressed it or not). Except for one man.

*dramatic music*

It was a sunny afternoon. Sherlock and the twins were sitting at the park. John and Mary had gone on a short trip to visit one of Mary's close friends, and Sherlock had grudgingly accepted the twins as his responsibility. He secretly enjoyed teaching Anabiel his skills, and had come to accept her as a member of his family. Hamish and Anabiel were like a nephew and niece . Sherlock found this amusing. John was a closer brother to him than Mycroft.

Sherlock was sitting on a bench with Anabiel. Hamish was playing in the grass and completely distracted from the goings on of the real world. Sherlock and Anabiel on the other hand were focused on every little detail of the real world. They were deducing things about people that walked past.

"Look Sherlock! That guy likes fishing!"

"The lady's husband just died. She has three kids."

"And a dog!"

"A boston terrier, to be precise."

"How can you tell?"

"Look at the fur and the claw marks..." Sherlock broke off mid sentence. he stood to meet a man who was approaching.

Damn it, it's Mycroft. What does he want with me? Can't he just piss off? Oh no, he's swinging his umbrella. He means business. Please, don't let it be Anabiel. It's probably Anabiel. Oh, look at his sleeve, it's Anabiel. Lucky kids, they get to meet the queen. Guess what, it's not as great as it sounds. Hey, look at the queen swinging her umbrella. She obviously just attended a top-secret meeting about nuclear weapons. And she just gave up on her diet! Oh well, it was hopeless anyways. Here she comes! take cover!

Hamish ran over to Anabiel. He must have sensed Mycroft's nerve-wracking aura.

"Who's that guy?" he asked his sister in a whisper.

"That's Sherlock's brother. He works for the queen, and he's mean to Sherlock."

Hamish giggled a little.

"Lets play a trick on him!"

"Yeah, if he's mean to Sherlock, let's be mean to him!"

Anabiel looked at some clouds in the sky. They were coming fast. It was going to rain soon, and this man was obviously attached to his umbrella.

Hamish looked to his right, and saw a painter working away.

The twins looked at each other and shared a devilish grin. They had their inspiration.

Mycroft leaned his umbrella against a nearby tree and walked up to Sherlock.

"So, I see you have begun a new career in babysitting. What are you now, the consulting babysitter?" Mycroft chuckled a little at his own joke.

"What do you want Mycroft?" Sherlock asked coldly.

"I wanted to talk about Anabiel."

"Yes, I've divined that. Now can you go unless you're going to say something useful?"

Meanwhile, the twins were busy carrying out their plan.

Hamish had snuck behind Mycroft. He gently removed the umbrella from the tree. Anabiel had warned him not to make any noise, and he trusted his sister. Finally, he had the umbrella in his hands. He held it tightly and snuck away.

Meanwhile, Anabiel was busy talking to the artist. She held up a plastic bag that she had found floating across the ground.

"Mister, can I please have some of that pretty blue paint? It's the same color as the sky!"

"You don't want to get all dirty, little miss." said the artist, smiling.

"Mommy says it's okay!"

The artist was going to refuse, then he looked into Anabiel's little, hopeful face. His heart melted. He laughed and swept a dreadlock out of his dark face and poured a little bit of paint into this girl's plastic bag.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" cried Anabiel delightedly who gave the artist a quick hug then dashed away to meet her brother. The artist grinned and continued his work.

Upon meeting Hamish with the umbrella, they opened the umbrella and poured the paint inside. Then they disposed efficiently of the bag by hiding it under a rock, and Hamish returned the umbrella to it's original position. Now they just had to wait.

"Sherlock, this isn't about you, this is about Anabiel! We both have been the odd one out, do you have to force it upon her as well! It's not her fault!" Mycroft snapped at Sherlock, who was becoming more contrary the more Mycroft spoke.

"Dear brother, you can't change my mind so why bother trying?"

Mycroft sighed loudly and assumed an irritated expression. He then looked at his watch.

"Well, I'm afraid I must dash, I have a very important meeting to attend. Talking to you was pleasant as always. I'll see you very soon." He said pompously.

As if on cue, thunder rumbled and raindrops began to fall from the sky. Mycroft reached for his ever precious umbrella and opened it. A splot of sky-blue paint fell from the umbrella and hit Mycroft right in the middle of the head. Bulls eye.

Mycroft was completely humiliated/annoyed. He had a very important meeting to attend. He glared at Sherlock as if it was his fault. Nearby the twins burst into infectious laughter.

Sherlock felt an irrepressible grin spreading across his face. At that moment he was probably the proudest uncle in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

Anabiel and Hamish were standing in their room. They had had a wonderful day, and the remnants of that triumphant feeling clung to them. Whole countries couldn't defeat Mycroft, but they could. However, there was something nagging at Anabiel's mind.

"Ham?"

"Yeah?"

"When mommy reads us a bedtime story, just pretend to fall asleep."

"Why?"

"I want to talk to you."

"About what?" Anabiel and Hamish stopped to listen to the sound of approaching footsteps.

"I'll tell you then."

True to his word, Hamish managed to stay awake. The minute their mother left the room, he stood up and walked over to Anabiel's bed. He proceeded to sit upon her bed.

"Ana, what were you going to ask me?"

"Did you listen to Sherlock and his brother talking today?"

"A little bit."

"Sherlock's brother was telling Sherlock that deduction was a bad thing and he should stop teaching me. Is deduction weird and bad?"

Hamish pondered this for a second.

"Not many people can figure things out, but it's not a bad thing. If you hadn't known Mycroft was mean, how could we play our prank on him?"

The twins giggled a little, remembering their victory.

Anabiel slept that night feeling very reassured.

Mycroft stood in the shower, desperately trying to remove the remnants of the paint, but to no avail. While he angrily tugged on his defaced hair, he mourned his defeat from earlier that day. He wasn't a villain, so why did everyone treat him as such? He knew what happened to people like himself, and he couldn't let it happen to Anabiel. She had no choice in the matter of her intellect, she was only a child. Why did she trust Sherlock, of all people? Didn't she realize he was an emotionless lump?

Or maybe Sherlock wasn't so emotionless. He had definitely acted different around the children. Like he was a member of their family. Their...uncle perhaps?

Mycroft was hit with a pang of loneliness. If Sherlock was their uncle, John was Sherlock's brother. Had Sherlock rejected him? When Sherlock chose his family, why did he choose to expel his own flesh and blood? Was he ashamed of it? Well, given the history of their father, he had reason to be ashamed. Possibly he wasn't to blame.

The last bit of sky-blue paint circled down the drain. Finally. Mycroft had a very important meeting to attend, and the British government must never be late.


	5. Chapter 5

It was three o'clock in the morning. Sherlock was in his bed, sleeping as soundly as most people do at three o'clock. Suddenly, the phone began to ring.

"Ring-ring." sang the phone tauntingly.

"Shut up" murmured Sherlock.

"Ring-ring."

"I said, SHUT UP!" shouted Sherlock, sitting upright. He looked around before realizing that he was yelling at a phone. He sighed dramatically, irritated at whosoever had the nerve to wake him up, then retrieved the phone.

"Hello."

"Sherlock, this is John."

"What do you bloody want at three in the morning?"

"Can you please come over and watch the kids?"

"At three in the morning?"

"Mary's going to have a baby! I need somebody to watch the twins when I go to the hospital! Please?" John sounded desperate.

Sherlock groaned. He didn't really have a choice, John was his friend.

"Be there in five minutes."

"You know where the key is. Got to go now. Thanks. Bye."

"Bye."

Within fifteen minutes, Sherlock was standing at the door of John's flat. He retrieved the key from behind a small rock, and entered the house. Immediately upon entry he collapsed on the sofa and closed his eyes. He had better get some sleep while he still could.

Hey guys, thanks so much for reading this far. I really appreciate it. In the rest of this story, I want to show Anabiel growing up. i also want to work on the Hamish/Anabiel relationship (I think that Hamish would be very jealous of Anabiel). If anyone is wondering why I chose the name Anabiel, it is because I read somewhere that Anabiel is an angel invoked to cure stupidity, and I thought that the name seemed appropriate. Please review, all reviews are welcome and Thanks again for reading!

~writer24601


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock awoke to a bright light. He blinked confusedly a few times before remembering the events of the previous night. Phone call, baby, watch the twins. Right. Hamish's head poked into his line of vision.

"Sherlock! You're awake! Can you make us breakfast!"

Sherlock grudgingly sat up and looked around. Anabiel was sitting on the other side of the room. Both Hamish and Anabiel looked very hungry. Sherlock sighed and got to his feet.

"Okay."

They were halfway to the kitchen when Sherlock began to think. What the hell am I going to make them for breakfast? Mary and John left in a hurry, they probably didn't make any food that I can reheat. I can't cook. I don't have any cash for a restaurant. This isn't going to end well.

Upon arrival at the kitchen, Sherlock scoured all of the drawers for any food that he could easily make. Finally, he decided to make toast. He removed some bread from a plastic bag and stuffed two slices into a toaster. He then collapsed and mourned his lost sleep. How did he let John talk him into this again? If he was at home right now, he could still be in his pajamas or wrapped in a sheet, playing violin or experimenting with chemicals. Definitely not making toast or playing with toddlers. As much as he loved the twins, there were definitely times when he didn't want to be around them. Like now.

The toaster finished with the bread and Sherlock retrieved it. He plopped it unceremoniously onto two plates and shoved it towards the children, who immediately began scooping large amounts of jam onto their bread. The toast seemed to be fine, thankfully. It probably didn't matter, seeing as the twins put enough jam on their toast that they probably couldn't taste it anymore.

Anabiel surveyed the man before her, with his messy hair and unkempt, wrinkled, purple shirt. It was obvious why he was here, she had already explained that bit to Hamish. It was also obvious that he was in a bad mood, likely because he was tired. That was unfortunate, she probably wouldn't be learning any deduction skills today. Oh well.

After breakfast, Anabiel and Hamish went to go play with toy cars. Sherlock walked over to the couch and lay back down. He was in that position for the next few hours, while he continued reading the chemistry textbook he had been reading the first time he babysat.

While he was reading, Sherlock got a brilliant idea for an experiment. unfortunately, he didn't have the supplies for this particular experiment at John's house. And this was such a brilliant idea, it probably couldn't wait. At last, there was one conclusion. Sherlock had to go to the labs. And he would take the children with him if he must.


	7. Chapter 7

Anabiel and Hamish lay in the back of a taxicab, pretending to take a nap. Hamish was attempting to read the graffiti on the inside of the cab with his newly learned reading skills. He was having little success. Anabiel was busy analyzing the cab driver. She had already spent five minutes trying to deduce him. It had always irritated her a little that Sherlock could deduce things so much faster and more accurately than her.

Sherlock saw Anabiel deducing the cabbie and smiled a little to himself, remembering the taxi driver case, or as John would call it, A Study In Pink. maybe if he had had the good sense to deduce the taxi driver, he wouldn't have risked his life to prove he was clever, and John would not have had to save him. Even so, it had been a lot of fun. Sherlock would never admit it, but he missed solving crimes with John. Chasing criminals was always fun, but it was more so with John. Not to mention, Sherlock thought better when he spoke aloud, and talking to a skull attracted way too much attention. Friendship did have its advantages.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of the lab and Sherlock opened the door. He lifted both of the children out. As Sherlock strode into the lab, they followed him like little ducklings. Their little blue eyes wandered all over, wide with wonder.

"Don't touch anything." Sherlock warned them sternly. He walked over to a corner and pulled out a dusty, out-of-date microscope. He wiped it off briefly with his jacket, then placed it on a chair by the twins.

"You can play with this. Let me know when you can focus it." He said. He plucked a leaf off of a nearby potted plant and placed it on the slide. The children ran over to the microscope and began to fiddle with the complex-looking dials. They were very eager to impress Sherlock and very curious about this new contraption.

Sherlock sighed a little then sat down at his usual chair. He was glad to see that Anabiel and Hamish fit in at the lab and were not messing up his stuff. He began to collect some chemicals for this particular experiment.

At that moment, the doors to the lab swung open. Molly walked into the room and nearly tripped over Hamish and Anabiel. She looked at them then looked at Sherlock with an expression of shock painted on her face.

"The kids, are they, ummm..." she stammered.

"No, they're not mine. Remember John? These are his kids, Hamish and Anabiel."

"Where's John? Is he okay with you taking his kids to the lab?"

"John is with his wife, who is having a baby. Don't intrude into other people's business, Molly." Sherlock admonished.

"Sorry!" squeaked Molly."

Anabiel during this time had been busy using her deduction skills on unsuspecting Molly. She wanted to impress this woman with her logic.

"You're in love with Sherlock!" she blurted out. Molly's face grew very red. Sherlock tried desperately to avoid laughing. He focused all of his attention onto the microscope. After a short, awkward silence, Molly tried to start a conversation.

"So, you've been teaching them to deduce then?"

"Only Anabiel. And I did not teach her, only enhanced her abilities."

Anabiel was distraught. She had not impressed this woman, only hurt her feelings. How could she make this better?

Molly turned to the children.

"What are you doing there?" she inquired.

"We're focusing the micoscope!" proclaimed Anabiel proudly.

"Not micoscope, microscope. Ro." corrected Hamish.

"Micoscope." argued Anabiel stubbornly. Molly giggled a little.

"Sherlock, would you like some coffee? And Anabiel and Hamish, maybe you would like some hot cocoa?"

"Yes!" said the twins in unison.

"Thank you Molly. Black, two sugars. I'll be here." said Sherlock without even looking up.

As Molly turned to leave, Anabiel got up to go with her.

"I'm going with the nice lady!" she told Sherlock.

"Don't worry, I'll look after her." said Molly.

"Okay then." said Sherlock. He was tired of human interaction for now, and wanted to focus on his experiment. Molly and Anabiel turned and left.

The second they entered the hallway, Anabiel blurted out

"I'm sorry for hurting your feelings!"

Molly grinned a little to herself. Maybe this girl wasn't exactly like Sherlock. Her embarrassment faded.

"It's okay." Anabiel grinned. This nice lady still liked her.

"Thanks for forgiving me!" She said while grinning.

And they walked down the hall, hand in hand, the scientist and the gifted child.

When they re-entered the lab, Hamish immediately jumped up to greet them.

"I focused the microscope!" Anabiel leaned over to look.

"Woooow." she said, obviously very impressed.

Sherlock leaped up from his chair. Excitement radiated from his face.

"I've found a re-agent that is precipitated by haemoglobin and nothing else!" he yelled.

"This will revolutionize science! Before this nobody could tell if a stain was a blood stain, or a rust stain, or any other sort of stain! Now we can catch murders!"

"Brilliant Sherlock." stuttered Molly. Sherlock was preparing for a demonstration, when his phone rang. He sighed and picked it up. After a few seconds, he grinned and hung up.

"Hamish, Anabiel, guess what."

"What?" asked Hamish.

"Mommy had a baby!" yelled Anabiel. Sherlock smiled a little.

"That's right."

"Can we go see it?" inquired Hamish.

"Sure, we should go see him right away. By the way, his name is Darius.

Finally, we have gotten to the little brother! by the way, the experiment is not mine, it belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle. I copied it from the original books. Thanks so much for reading this far, and please review!

~Writer24601


	8. Chapter 8

Fifteen minutes later, Uncle Sherlock and his niece and nephew sat in the waiting room of a hospital, waiting to meet the newest member of their family. A nurse opened a large wooden door.

"Right this way please." She said.

At once the two twins dashed through the door and ran ahead of the nurse down the hallway. Sherlock followed with swift steps, careful not to spill the forgotten hot cocoa(he had already drank his coffee). Today, even he had a slight spring in his step.

The nurse opened one of the identical doors. The twins (who were already far down the hallway) backtracked and sprang into the room. Sherlock followed their footsteps with a sort of hopeful anxiousness.

"Mommy! Daddy!" shrieked the twins. John gathered them up into a giant hug. Mary, who was sitting up in a hospital bed, laughed a little. She seemed to be well. In her arms was a bundle of blankets, and poking out was a little, red wrinkly face.

"See kids, that's Darius." whispered John to his children.

"That's your little brother." The twins seemed wonderstruck by the new member of their family. They gazed at him with open mouths. John put down Anabiel and Hamish and went over to Sherlock.

"Thanks so much for babysitting."

"It was my pleasure."

"Even at three AM?"

"Well, not so much then."

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter and hugged each other. So apparently Sherlock wasn't terrified of human contact. Then they went over to talk to Mary and the Watson children.

If you had happened to be in this particular hospital room at this particular time, you would have heard lots of laughter. All the members of this family were at peace with each other. Two shrieking children were playing with their little brother's wrinkly newborn hands, a glowing woman sat upright, holding her youngest child, the army doctor(or, more importantly, father)was drunk with relief and happiness. And in the middle of it all was a proud sociopath in one of the happiest days of his life.

Wow, that was a short chapter. I hope you liked it anyways. After this I'm hoping to do short flashes of Anabiel's life. Please leave reviews, to tell me what you honestly thought of this. By the way, I have been pronouncing Darius "da-roosh" but I don't care how you pronounce it. Thanks for reading!

~writer24601


	9. Chapter 8 cont

Thanks for the great idea frstbitten!

Sherlock stood next to the bed in the middle of the commotion. His mind focused completely on holding the baby correctly. Why did he even care? Oh, right, this was John's baby. Wow, it weighed so little. Sherlock rocked a little back and forth. Darius's eyes opened and focused on Sherlock's face. A little red squeezed a slender, pale finger. Sherlock smiled a little to himself. He would protect this fragile little child, for John if nothing else. Nothing to do with feelings, of course. Obviously.

"Hey Darius, this is your uncle, Sherlock."


	10. Chapter 9

Hamish and Anabiel sat at the breakfast table. They were trying to eat, but both very nervous. They nibbled a little at slices of toast. Meanwhile, Darius was banging down on the table with both his hands. He had grown so much over the last few years. When Mary went over to help him eat his food, the twins glanced at each other with scared little eyes.

Today was the day that they had both been looking forward to and dreading at the same time. It was the first day of kindergarten. They would be happy to learn and meet new friends, but they were scared at the same time.

"You'd better eat up, don't want to be hungry on your first day of school!" said Mary in an overly cheery voice. Hamish and Anabiel looked away from each other and focused on eating.

Fifteen minutes later they stood at the bus stop with Mary and Darius. The school bus pulled around the corner. They gave their mother one last hug as the bus pulled up next to them. As they climbed onto the bus, they held each others hands. The bus doors closed behind them, shutting them in.

The inside of the bus was teeming with children. Almost immediately, a little boy came up to the pair of them.

"Hi, i'm Jack." he said grinning.

"You have three brother's and your dad is on vacation!" Anabiel blurted out. The boy looked terrified at this. Thankfully, Hamish stepped in.

"I'm Hamish and this is Ana." he said, sensing that this boy was scared of his sister. Jack leaned over Hamish's shoulder and whispered,

"How did she know that?".

"She is smart and figured it out." he replied. This didn't seem to comfort the boy.

Anabiel was distraught. Her skill didn't impress people, it only scared them. What should she do? Thankfully, another girl came up to her.

"Hi, i'm Izzy."

"I'm Anabiel, but you can call me Ana."...

And so Anabiel learned her first lesson on the bus before school started. It was very effective. She didn't mention her deduction ability to anyone else that day.

The door to the Watson house swung open. There were two ear-piercing screams of "DADDY!" as Ana and Hamish tumbled down the stairs. John gathered his children into a giant bear hug.

"How was school today?"

"It was fun!"

"I met friends named Izzy and Emma and Lauren..."

"I played football with my friends!"

The next question John asked was risky. "Did you have any problems with your deduction ability?" he asked, trying to sound as carefree as possible.

"Nope!" said Anabiel cheerily. John grinned and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Hamish shot Anabiel a suspicious look behind John's back, but didn't say anything. He would let Anabiel handle this. However, he couldn't stop thinking about why she had lied to John. Why wouldn't she tell the truth? Perhaps she didn't want john to worry. Yes that must be it. However, Hamish couldn't help thinking that there was something more...


	11. Chapter 10

It was Sunday afternoon, and Ana and Hamish were at Sherlock's flat. John had dropped them off there on his way to work, so that Mary would not overstress herself with three children and because Sherlock was not currently working on a case. It seemed like a compromise that would work for both parties. John just hoped that Sherlock wouldn't take his boredom out on the children. He had a tendency to do strange things when bored.

At the moment, Sherlock was sitting at the window.

"Anabiel, do you want to deduce people with me?"

"No."

"Why not?" asked Sherlock surprisedly. Anabiel was normally overenthusiastic about everything.

"I want to play cars with Ham." This surprised Sherlock even more. He realised that something was very wrong. He then resolved to talk to Anabiel.

In around thirty minutes, Sherlock declared naptime. He began to read an old textbook. Both children got the hint, Sherlock wanted to talk to Anabiel and only Anabiel. Hamish realised that this might have to do with why she lied to John, and resolved to stay awake. He closed his eyes and lay down like he was sleeping, but tried desperately to stay awake. But why did Uncle Sherlock's voice have to be so soothing? Within five minutes Hamish was fast asleep.

"Sherlock, people got scared of me when I deduced!" She started to cry a little.

Now Sherlock had absolutely no idea what to do. What was one supposed to do when people were crying? He decided on giving Anabiel a hug. Why did people even like hugs? They seemed very awkward. Ana cried a little into Sherlock's shoulder.

"I'm assuming you didn't tell your friends."

"No, I didn't want them to be scared of me like James was. What should I do?!" Sherlock pondered this for a moment.

"Well, as an uncle I'm morally obligated to tell you to do whatever makes you happy. But I think that you should at least tell your friends, because if they're your friends they'll like you anyways. Just remember, even if people act scared, they are always a little bit impressed."

Sherlock held the little girl for a few more minutes before he realised that she had fallen asleep. He put her down awkwardly and lay on the couch to think.

I wonder what my life would have turned out like if I had thought of that. Would I be happier? Unlike me, the child is not a sociopath, and I have no right to make her into one. She's just an ordinary person with a peculiar gift. Damn, for a little bit I thought I wasn't alone. I probably should have learned by now, I'm always alone. The only consulting detective in the world.

The twins awoke to melancholy violin music.


	12. Chapter 11

Darius had always loved music, from his toddler days when he banged rhythms onto tables, and for the rest of his life. Of course, being a toddler at the moment, he couldn't express this in words. That was why he liked music, it didn't require words. Also, something about it was comforting, especially the steady thump of the bass. He was often found laying in front of the speaker, with his eyes closed, relaxing to The Beatles or Grateful Dead. His parents worried about him losing his hearing due to the immense noise, but they also found it amusing. And, at least it kept him relaxed.

Sherlock was very pleased when he was invited over to the Watson's for Christmas. He was routinely invited every year, and although he would never admit it, he enjoyed the feeling of being invited somewhere. He had never actually stayed at John's house for Christmas for more than a few minutes before, but this time he was planning to stay. Why not?

Mycroft confronted him about this in a grocery store (Sherlock now had to do his own shopping without John to do it for him.)

"Hello brother dear, how are you?" he said drily.

"What do you want Mycroft, I'm assuming you're not here for season's greetings."

"I was simply wondering what you were going to get the Watson children for Christmas."

"Get them?"

"Yes, Sherlock. You see, it is customary to give gifts during Christmas." Mycroft smirked a little.

"They don't mind." said Sherlock quickly.

"Oh, don't they?" asked Mycroft raising his eyebrows. Sherlock turned and strolled away. "Merry Christmas!" Mycroft called after him. Sherlock didn't respond. Typical.

Sherlock stood at the toy section of a store, trying to figure out what to buy for Darius. He has renovated old microscopes for Ana and Hamish, remembering how much they loved to focus them. He got some jam for John and Mary. Unfortunately, he didn't know Darius particularly well. Finally, he decided on a teddy bear. Small children loved teddy bears, didn't they? What could go wrong?

Sherlock fidgeted as he entered the Watson household. He awkwardly clutched his violin under one arm and the gifts under the other. He presented his gifts to the Watson's. Hamish and Ana unwrapped their gifts and gave squeals of delight, and John and Mary were very pleased with their gift. Finally, Mary went to give the teddy bear to Darius. He swatted it away savagely. Sherlock tried to avoid blushing. No emotion, no emotion, no emotion. Ana cut through the silence.

"What's that under your arm?"

"It's my violin."

"Oh Sherlock, you should play for us!" Mary exclaimed. Sherlock zipped open the case, tightened the bow, and began to play Silent Night. The watson family watched in awe, then applauded when he had finished.

Darius was enraptured. He didn't know this man's story or his name. But, as he stared at Sherlock with wide eyes, he knew only one thing. Someday he wanted to make music like this man did.

I'm sooooooo sorry for not updating in so long. It feels like I haven't written in months. I hope that you liked this chapter. Please leave reviews on what you want to see written and just your general opinion. Thanks so much for reading this far!

~Writer24601


	13. Chapter 12

It was a typical evening at the Watson house. Hamish and Ana were babbling to their mother about everything they had been doing in school, while Darius experimented with his toy keyboard. Mary was pulling biscuits out of the oven and John was sitting at the table reading the news. Then came a knock at the door and John stood up to go get it.

"Hello John." said the person at the door.

"Hey Sherlock. It's about those murders in the news, right? Well I can't come."

"Please?" Sherlock pulled his most innocent face.

John sighed and went to go pack his things. After all, it wasn't often that Sherlock asked politely.

"Where is Daddy going?" asked Hamish for the billionth time.

"On a trip with Uncle Sherlock." answered Mary for the billionth time.

"But wheere?" whined Hamish. Mary sighed tiredly.

"I wish I knew."

John walked down the stairs, carrying a giant suitcase. This was it. He picked his children up and gave them a hug, then hugged Mary.

"John, please be safe." John smiled a little.

"I'll try."

With that, John stepped out of the door and loaded his trunks into a cab. He waved at his family as the cab drove away. Mary blinked a bit as if she was going to cry.

"Mommy, why did you ask Daddy to be safe." asked Ana, breaking the silence suddenly.

Mary did not reply.

Anabiel was utterly perplexed by this strange behavior on her parents behalf. Where could John possibly be going that was so dangerous? She eventually came to the conclusion that her Dad was helping Sherlock solve mysteries, but that seemed odd. Her father was not a logical thinker like Sherlock and herself, so how could he be of much use. And why would this be dangerous?

This led Ana to the question of how her father and Uncle Sherlock had met. She had always assumed that they had met at school, because that was where she had met her friends, but the more she thought about it, that didn't seem to be the case. Had they been coworkers or roommates? That couldn't be, it was unlikely that Sherlock went to University (he would have probably found it boring) or done any work besides his consulting detective work. So, maybe flatmates? And maybe John had helped Sherlock with his cases? That seemed to be the most reasonable solution. But why John, and not anybody else? And why did Sherlock go on this recent case with her daddy? Was he... lonely? Anabiel had to find out what was going on. However, she had one definite conclusion. There was much more to her father than she had realized.

Three nights later, John returned. He swept up his children in a giant hug, and gave Mary a kiss. He had a grin on his face, and was obviously happy to see everyone. Everything seemed like it was back to normal. However, Ana kept looking for clues as to what he had been doing. Finally, she saw what she was looking for.

It was night, and Anabiel was supposed to be in bed. She snuck into the sitting room to watch her father. He apparently was writing a blog, except Ana had never seen him write in a blog before. Something was definitely up. After about thirty minutes, he logged out of his laptop and Ana quickly scrambled away before she could be seen. She ended up in her brothers room.

"Ham!" she whispered, shaking her brother.

"Don't call me that." he muttered in response.

"Shhhh, Daddy just finished writing something. I think it might tell us where he went.

Hamish tried desperately to appear uninterested, but his curiosity got the better of him, and soon the siblings were standing in front of John's laptop.

"Ham, what's the password?"

"I don't know, try... jam! Ana dutifully typed that in.

"That's wrong!"

"What does the hint say?"

"Get off my laptop Sherlock."

"Oh.. I know! Try Mary!" Ana typed that in.

"Nice job, you got it right." Ana promptly opened the internet and went to John's history. She opened the most recent tab, and both she and her brother began to read. After they had finished, they looked at each other in amazement. Then they heard footsteps on the stairs. Ana quickly logged out and the twins went back to Hamish's room.

"Ana, let's not tell Daddy we know."

"Why not?"

"Because we don't want to get in trouble."

"Okay, good night Ham."

"Don't call me that."

"Hammy." Hamish rolled his eyes and Ana left the room. Before she went to sleep, she realized that all of her conclusions had been correct. And, mostly importantly, there was much more to her father than there seemed to be.

I love writing about Ana sneaking around like a little Sherlock, it's so cute. Thanks for reading this far!

~Writer24601


	14. Chapter 13

Ever since Ana and Hamish had read the most recent story on John's blog, she got into the habit of reading more posts on John's blog. It became a bit of a routine for her and Hamish. They had started to outgrow books such as Peter Rabbit, and this was their new storytime. Ana started to pick up little shortcuts of deduction from Sherlock. Every time she read she would study his character and the way he did things. She would also pay close attention to the mystery. Soon, she started to solve mysteries before they were over. She chafed at her father's habit of forgetting important details in his blog.

Hamish also occasionally tried to deduce things, but unsuccessfully. He mostly read for the story. He enjoyed the rush of adrenaline he would get from reading about his father's exploits.

One day, Hamish and Ana were playing a game with Darius. Darius was loping around on four legs growling at his siblings. Hamish and Ana were running away from him screaming "IT'S THE HOUND!."

Hamish pulled his sister to the side. "ANA, DON'T WORRY IT'S NOT REAL, SOMETHING MUST BE MAKING US THINK IT IS!"

"IT'S THE SUGAR! NO BISCUITS FOR YOU HAM!"

"HEY!"

John watched his children quizzically, his lips pursed.

"Ana, Hamish, do you two know how to spell hound?"

The twins spoke quickly. "H.O.U.N.D.!"

"We learned it at school." Hamish added to clarify.

"I see. Nice job, that's a hard word." The twins breathed a sigh of relief and smiled a bit at their father's praise. They ran off and changed the game to chasing Darius. John grabbed his laptop and slid up to his room.

That night, Ana and Hamish sneaked over to the laptop. Ana typed in the password and waited expectantly. The screen came up saying "wrong password." Ana was about to type in the password again in case she had misspelled it, but Hamish whispered "Look at the password hint." The twins caught their breath. The password hint now read, "If you are Hamish, Ana, or Sherlock, please get off my laptop."

Hamish and Ana sat in silence for a few moments, before Ana spoke.

"Come on Ham, you're good at guessing passwords."

"He probably changed it to something I can't guess. But guess what I found yesterday!"

"Is this important?"

"Yes, it's a book with all of Daddy's passwords in it!

"Oh! Where is it!"

"Over here." said Hamish. He slid off his chair and scrambled over to a cabinet next to the oven. He reached in and pulled out a little plain blue notebook. He flipped to the last page in it.

"Try 'sunflower313'." Ana obliged. Within seconds, the twins were once again enraptured by their father's stories. However, they both had a lingering feeling of guilt, and a feeling that maybe there was a reason why their father hadn't wanted them to read his stories.

They shot him!

Here they come !

Stay with us John!

John

John

John

John sat bolt upright, breathing heavily. It took him a few moments to chase thoughts of the war from his head. He held his head in his hands for a second and tried to calm himself down. Stop, think, breathe. There, that was better. He looked for a moment at his wife sleeping peacefully besides him. She looked so tranquil. She was not haunted by ghosts of rage, and remembrances of atrocities. John affectionately ran his fingers through her hair, then got out of bed and began to walk downstairs. Trying to sleep again would be useless. The ghosts were still there.

John had mostly stopped getting nightmares. However, he still occasionally was awoken at early hours, remembering the days of his past. By now he knew the routine. get out of bed, get some hot chocolate, read a book, maybe go on the internet. Having PTSD was not pleasant, but it was manageable. And when his beautiful family awoke, thoughts of the war were chased from his head.

Everything was as normal when John heard the pitter patter of little footsteps. Little footsteps that were supposed to be in bed. John walked over to his laptop and felt the bottom. It was warm. He quickly logged on and checked the history. The first thing on the list was his blog. John sighed and walked over to Hamish's room. He quietly opened the door and entered the room. He saw Hamish in bed, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to appear asleep. A little tuft of golden hair poked out over the edge of his bed.

"Ana, Hamish?" The little tuft of hair disappeared under the bed. Hamish tried even more desperately to appear asleep.

"It's okay, I know you're there. Just tell me, were you reading my blog?" Hamish's eyes popped open. Anabiel's head appeared over the edge of the bed.

"We're sorry Daddy."

"Listen, that's not good to be reading. Why did you read it?"  
"We were curious where you were on vacation. Then we started reading your stories and we couldn't stop."

"Yeah. Why isn't it good to be reading?" Ana intervened.

"These stories have lot's of bad things in them, that you are too young for. You can read them when you're older."

"But Daddy, we only have one left!"

"I tell you what, if you're good for the next week, I'll tell you how it gos." "Next week! Why not now!" Hamish complained.

"Because," said John ruffling Hamish's hair "It is far too late for anyone to be awake. Or, I suppose, far too early."

"Then why are you awake?" asked Ana.

"Bad dreams. C'mon, let's get you to bed. And by the way, you two. Try not to tell your Mother about this. She'll worry."

"Don't worry, we won't." the twins promised fervently.

"Good." said John, planting a kiss on Hamish's forehead. "Sleep tight."

"Good night."

John picked up Ana and carried her over to her room. He tucked her into her bed.

"Daddy, I want to be just like Sherlock!" Ana piped up. John groaned inwardly.

"Sweetie, you don't want to be just like Sherlock. You have one of his good aspects. He has plenty of bad ones. The way you are right now is perfect. Although, I'd rather you not steal my laptop." Ana giggled.

"Good night, sleep tight." she whispered.

"Don't let the bedbugs bite." John responded. With that, he planted a kiss on her forehead and left the room.

~Hey, sorry to text you so early. Just wanted to let you know, the twins read our blog. Ana now wants to be just like you.

-JW

~It's no problem, I'm at the morgue anyways. What did you tell her?

-SH

~To stop stealing my laptop.

-JW

~Why did you text me so early? PTSD?

-SH

~Yeah. Don't worry about it.

-JW

~Want to help me at the morgue while you are awake? It will only take an hour.

-SH

~Okay, be there in a few.

-JW

John scribbled a hasty note for Mary in case she awoke, then headed out the door. At least now he had something to focus on.

Back at the morgue, Sherlock smiled. Ana saw him as a role model. A role model. Acceptance felt rather nice.


End file.
